


Intimate Portraits

by LydiaBSlade



Series: Destination Unknown [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Military, Angst and Porn, BenArmie AU, Blow Jobs, Boot Worship, Bullying, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Mitaka deserves better, Referenced Mitaka/Thanisson, Uniform Kink, sub!Kylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-27 03:08:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18295610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaBSlade/pseuds/LydiaBSlade
Summary: In which Ben gets into art school and is immediately inspired to begin various photographic projects, some more scandalous than others.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note the tag for “homophobic language” (mainly an issue in the first part of Chapter 2, if you’d like to skip past it). See detailed content warnings at the end of each chapter for more information.

“Hux!” Ben says very loudly when Hux picks up the phone. “Guess what!”

Hux holds the phone away from his ear. “What?”

“I got into the School of Visual Arts!”

“Oh,” says Hux, trying to remember where that had ranked on the list of art schools Ben has been obsessing about. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks! I’m really excited - I had a good feeling about this one - this was the school where the lady who reviewed my portfolio told me that some of my work reminded her of David Wojnarowicz. Which was amazing, because he’s, like, my idol - “

“Oh right, I remember that,” Hux says. “Isn’t he the one who wrote that really disturbing book that you made me look at?”

“It’s not disturbing, it’s honest! I mean, he had to survive on the street in New York as a child in the seventies after he ran away from his stepfather who beat him up. Of course his work isn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows.”

“I can see why your work would be similar, then,” Hux says. “Since you had to survive the horrors of growing up on the Upper East Side with two parents who love you and would do anything for you.”

“Shut up, Hux,” Ben says, laughing. “Don’t make me come up there and spank you.”

“Why don’t you try it and see how that goes for you?”

“Maybe I will,” Ben says. “Anyway, I’m just waiting to find out now if I qualify for any scholarships. It’s like thirty thousand dollars a year just for tuition... I feel really bad asking my mom to pay that kind of money.”

Hux considers, briefly, how Brendol would have reacted if Hux had asked him for thirty thousand dollars a year to study art. “Well,” he says after a moment, “didn’t she say she wants you to do something you’re passionate about?”

Ben laughs again, harder. “Hux, it always sounds so funny when you’re trying to be supportive,” he says. “I appreciate it, don’t get me wrong, but you say that the same way you’d say ‘doesn’t she want you to jump off a bridge?’”

“I can always go back to being sarcastic and unhelpful if you prefer.”

“Not just yet,” Ben says. “I actually want to ask you for a favor.”

“Oh no,” Hux says, “what now?”

“So you know the really nice digital camera my parents got me for Christmas? I’ve been working on taking more interesting portraits, and - “

“I’m _not_ posing nude for you. I told you that already.”

“I know that!” Ben says, sounding aggrieved. “I haven’t even asked in a while. No, I want to do a series of portraits up at West Point. Do you think you could help me find some cadets who’d let me take their picture?”

“No,” Hux says flatly. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not? I don’t mean, like, nude pictures. I want to take pictures of people in their uniforms, that’s part of what I think is interesting.”

“And then what are you going to do with the pictures?” Hux asks. “Post them on your website with all your paintings of blowjobs?”

“No! I’ll set up a separate site. Or something.”

“Yeah, no,” Hux says. “Not getting involved with this one. I don’t even understand why you’d want to do some kind of project on West Point - you hate this place.”

“I don’t hate it, I just wish you’d transfer to a school where I’m allowed to suck your dick,” Ben says. “Plus there’s so much material up there, I just feel like it would be, like, artistically dumb not to take advantage of it. I mean, if you joined a cult, I wouldn’t be happy about that either, but it would still be interesting to take pictures of your fellow cult members.”

“On that note, which definitely isn’t at all insulting,” Hux says, “the cult requires me to study for a physics test tomorrow. Congratulations on art school. Bye.”

***

A week later, Hux opens his inbox after class and is startled to see an e-mail from the Public Affairs Office, requesting volunteers for “a documentary photography project on the subject of how gender is performed at West Point.” The photographer’s name is Kylo Ren.

Hux dials Ben’s number immediately. “What the hell,” he says when Ben picks up. “I told you not to do this.”

“What? What did I do now?”

“Your photography project! I just saw the e-mail asking for volunteers.”

“Oh, that,” Ben says. “Wow, that was fast! I was just talking to them earlier today.”

“How the hell did you persuade Public Affairs to go along with this? And how did you even know to talk to them?”

“Mitaka gave me their number.”

“Mitaka? Since when do you talk to Mitaka?”

“He picked up the phone the other day when I called and you weren’t there,” Ben says. “I told him what I wanted to do and said that you were being unhelpful as usual. He laughed and said he wasn’t surprised.”

“I’m going to strangle him.”

Ben laughs. “Don’t strangle Mitaka,” he says. “He’s a good kid. He seems really excited about the project - I think he wants me to do a portrait of him and his boyfriend. Well, his ‘friend,’ he said.”

Hux rolls his eyes. “How sweet,” he says acidly. “I still don’t understand why Public Affairs agreed to this. Did they even look at your work?”

“Yes, they liked it!” Ben says, annoyed. “I mean, I set the explicit stuff to private before I sent them my website, but there are still some drawings of guys kissing and stuff. I didn’t want to be totally dishonest.”

Hux exhales. “And they were okay with that?”

“This woman I was talking to, Captain Something, actually seemed like a really nice, normal person, unlike you,” Ben says. “We talked about guidelines for photographing the cadets. But she actually seems to understand that drawing pictures of gay men doesn’t mean I’m going to, like, try to get the cadets to film a massive orgy on the parade field.”

“I guess I just don’t see how this can possibly be good publicity for West Point. And that’s supposed to be her job.”

“I may have, uh, slightly exaggerated my artistic credentials,” Ben says sheepishly. “I started talking about plans to show these photographs at galleries downtown and she got really excited and said that she thought it would be a great way to reach people who aren’t normally receptive to West Point’s message.”

“Because most New Yorkers are like you and they think we’re all fascists?”

“I don’t actually think you’re _all_ fascists,” Ben says. “Are you still hung up on that ‘no blood for oil’ thing you keep complaining about?” 

One of the teachers at their high school had shouted that at Hux in the hallway while he was participating in a program that allowed cadets to spend an extra week at home after winter break, in exchange for speaking to high school students about West Point. At least their high school had allowed him to come speak; several of the private schools in the neighborhood had refused altogether. 

“I still think Mr. Steinberg was just messing with you,” Ben says. “He used to shout ‘Hail Satan!’ at me all the time after I started wearing eyeliner to class, but I didn’t take it personally.”

“You didn’t take it personally because having people greet you with ‘Hail Satan!’ was probably one of your major life goals at that age.”

Ben laughs. “Fair point,” he says. “Anyway, honestly, I didn’t expect this thing with West Point to be this easy either. I kind of figured that it was, like, you know, ‘one does not simply walk into Mordor.’”

“How nice for you.”

“Are you really mad at me about this? I mean, I’m going through the official process and everything, I’m not just sneaking around taking creepshots of your classmates.”

Hux sighs. “I just have a bad feeling about this,” he says. “And I wish you’d occasionally listen to me when I ask you not to do something.”

“You didn’t actually ask me not to do it, though,” Ben points out. “You just said it was a terrible idea and that you wouldn’t help, which is also what you say about 90% of the things I do.”

“I don’t think it’s 90%. Maybe fifty-fifty.”

“It’s definitely 90% of the things I do that don’t involve you coming in my mouth,” Ben says. “For sure.”

***

In mid-May, Hux is at Ben’s apartment, having used his one pass for the semester to come home for the weekend before his birthday. Well, not _home_ exactly; he certainly has no intention of going there. He peers suspiciously over Ben’s shoulder as Ben clicks through the photographs he’s taken. 

“See?” Ben says. “Nothing to worry about. No one is naked. No one is having an orgy in the secret porn locker room. Okay, there are the mandatory homoerotic wrestling pictures, but I didn’t tell them to do that. They were already being homoerotic when I got there.”

“Fine,” Hux says reluctantly. “At least Mitaka seems really happy with the picture you sent him. He printed it out and stuck it up over his desk.”

Ben had posed Mitaka and Thanisson in one of the sally ports, so that the heavy stone blocks of the archway loomed over them and the iron bars of the gate stood out behind them - _a bit on-the-nose_ , Hux thought when he saw it. In the picture, they were leaning toward each other, their shoulders just barely touching. Mitaka was smiling brightly, but his eyes looked anxious, as usual. Thanisson’s expression was more serious, his arms crossed over his chest, as if he were consciously trying to look dignified and officer-like.

Ben looks at Hux sideways. “Imagine having a boyfriend who does normal things like that,” he says. “Must be nice.”

“Mitaka’s an idiot,” Hux says shortly. “Anyone who comes in is going to notice that it’s the only photo he’s got up that isn’t of a family member.”

“Oh yeah,” Ben says. “It’s so much smarter to be like you and make sure that your side of the room has no personality whatsoever.”

“I have lots of personal effects on my side of the room.”

“Military history books and spare robot parts don’t count as personal effects.”

“Why not?” Hux asks. “Anyway, we already did our final presentation, so I had to turn my robot back in to the electrical-engineering department. No more spare robot parts.”

“You don’t get to keep it? You put so much work into it.”

“No,” Hux says, a bit sadly. He does miss the robot’s presence in his barracks room; he had improved its programming to the point where it was quite good at finding its way around, and it had been almost like a pet, zooming in and out from under the furniture and beeping melodically whenever it detected a new light source. “They’re going to disassemble it and use it for parts next year.”

Ben turns his chair around, wrapping his arms around Hux’s waist. “Poor Hux,” he says, pressing his face against Hux’s chest. “I’m sorry they took away your robot.”

“It’s okay,” Hux says, stroking Ben’s hair. “It would have been wasteful not to reuse the parts next year.”

“I guess at least no one could ever accuse you of being unnecessarily sentimental.”

“Speaking of sentimental,” Hux says, looking at the bulletin board behind Ben’s computer, “is that the picture you took of me at the Poe museum in Richmond? Why’d you put that one up?”

Ben turns to glance at it. “Why not? You look cute. I like it.”

“Ugh,” Hux says. In the picture, his face is turned slightly away from the camera, emphasizing the severe part in his hair. He’s smiling at the cat in his lap, caught just before petting it, so that his hand appears to dangle limply over the cat’s head. His legs are crossed primly at the ankle. “I hate the way I look in it.”

“You’re so weird,” Ben says. “Why do you hate it? Because you actually look happy and relaxed for once?”

“Maybe that’s part of the problem,” Hux says, still staring at it. “When I’m alert and paying attention, I’m careful not to sit like that.”

Ben sighs. “Hux,” he says, “you look really sweet and adorable in that picture. Which, granted, means that I did a terrible job of capturing your actual personality.”

“Yes, well, ‘sweet and adorable’ isn’t really the look I’m going for most of the time,” Hux says. “Just don’t post it on your website.”

“No problem,” Ben says, rolling his eyes. “Your terrible secret is safe with me.” He squeezes Hux tightly. Hux stands quietly in his arms for a moment, still stroking his hair. The dormer windows are open, letting in the May sunshine and the sound of cars honking at each other outside. Hux had gone for a run that morning and had half-registered that the magnolia trees in the park were in full bloom.

“By the way,” Ben says after a moment, “I almost forgot, I got you a birthday present. Want to open it now?”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Hux says uncomfortably. 

“It’s okay, I wanted to.” Ben grins at him. He leans away to pull a silver gift bag out of a desk drawer. “Here, open it.”

Hux takes it; it’s heavier than he expected it to be. Inside the bag is a boxed digital camera. “ _Ben_ ,” he says. “This must have been really expensive - I don’t think I can take this from you - “

“Of course you can,” Ben says. “Trust me, my motives were entirely selfish.” He pulls Hux down into his lap and kisses the nape of his neck. “Take it out of the box! I want to show you something.”

Hux opens it reluctantly. He taps the power button and looks at the screen on the back. “It’s already got pictures on it?” He squints at it. 

“Hmm,” Ben says innocently. “I wonder who could have put those there?”

“Oh no,” Hux says, “are these what I think they are?” He manages to open one of the icons. “And - yes, they are, aren’t they.” 

“There are videos too,” Ben says, helpfully. “You said you were going to be out in the field most of the summer and wouldn’t be able to see me. And I know you like making me strip and touch myself in front of you... so there you go. Something you can take with you. Happy birthday.”

Hux shakes his head, starting to laugh. “Very thoughtful of you.”

“Yeah? You like it?” Ben shifts underneath Hux, rocking up against him. He runs his hands restlessly over Hux’s chest and down to his thighs. Hux can feel that Ben is starting to get hard, watching Hux flip through the pictures: a close-up of Ben’s big hand wrapped around his hard cock, the head glistening. Ben naked and kneeling, legs spread, looking imploringly up at the camera as if it were Hux standing over him. Ben lying on his back, mostly dressed, his black t-shirt pulled up over his abs, his erection pushing up against the fabric of his boxers through his open fly. 

“I don’t hate it,” Hux admits, squirming in Ben’s lap. Ben makes a sound in the back of his throat. Hux stops at a picture of Ben sprawled on his back, apparently having just come all over his stomach and chest, his face flushed and dazed-looking. “Is this an extension of your West Point project? Showing you ‘performing your gender’?”

Ben laughs. “You could call it that,” he says, biting down gently on the side of Hux’s neck. Hux shivers. “You still sure you don’t want to be part of the project? It’d be a lot more interesting with you in it.”

“The West Point pictures or the pictures of you jerking off?”

“Either way.”

“Sorry, no,” Hux says. “Too much of a risk.”

“What if it was only my face in the picture, though?” Ben asks, sliding out from under Hux and kneeling down in front of him. He reaches for Hux’s zipper. “You sure you don’t want a video of me doing this?”

 _This is still a terrible idea_ , Hux thinks deliriously, struggling to hold the camera steady as Ben mouths ecstatically at the head of his cock. But there is something to be said for being able to take this with him, for being able to see the bliss on Ben’s face whenever he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: this chapter is actually fairly unproblematic for once! Internalized/institutional homophobia continues to be a theme: in particular, there’s a scene in which Hux objects to a picture that Ben took of him because, essentially, he thinks that he looks too stereotypically gay in it. Also, Ben and Hux fight a bit, and at the end Ben gives Hux a bunch of pictures of himself jerking off and then gives Hux a blowjob. 
> 
> Additional note for anyone interested: the “very disturbing book” by David Wojnarowicz that Hux references is called _Memories that smell like gasoline_. I highly recommend it as a work of art, but HUGE trigger warnings for explicit descriptions of the sexual and physical abuse the artist suffered as a child.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see the chapter notes at the end for detailed content warnings.

A week later, Hux has his noise-canceling headphones on and is deeply immersed in studying for his term-end exams, when Mitaka suddenly shakes his shoulder. “Hux?”

“What?” Hux snaps, sliding off one side of his headphones. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“I know,” Mitaka says, looking miserable and frightened. “But - have you looked at your email lately?”

“No, why?” Hux opens his inbox. “What’s going on?”

“That one,” Mitaka says, pointing to an unread email with the subject line “WTF?” The body of the email just reads: “check out this shit. Ridiculous.” There’s a link. It seems to have been forwarded to their company distro from the rugby team’s mailing list. 

“This looks like a spam virus email,” Hux says dubiously, but he clicks on it. The link goes to an article in a local newspaper, with the headline “An Intimate Look at the Cadets of West Point.” Hux’s stomach clenches. He scrolls through it anxiously. It’s mostly just a slideshow of Ben’s photos, with some commentary about how vulnerable the cadets appear “during this transformative time in their lives.”

“Look at the comments,” Mitaka says in a small voice. 

There are hundreds of them, even though the article is only a day old. Most of them seem to be from cadets and graduates. “What the fuck is happening at West Point,” one person has written. “I leave you guys alone for a minute and you turn into a bunch of fucking f*****s.”

“I feel really good about all the jokes I’ve ever made about West Pointers,” says another comment.

The wrestling pictures are singled out for particular mockery (“dicks are def touching, no homo”), as is a photograph of two cadets with their backs to the camera, walking into the woods. “This one looks like it’s about to get REALLY ‘intimate,’” someone has written. “Don’t ask don’t tell, guys. No really, please don’t tell, we don’t want to know.”

“This looks like a wedding pic,” someone has commented on the picture of Mitaka and Thanisson. “Is the little guy the bride?”

A portrait of Roberts sitting on a rock in his dress-grey uniform, his legs apart, appears to be particularly entertaining to his rugby teammates. “Nice package,” reads one comment. “You charge extra for handling?” 

“Pants that tight should be a violation of the UCMJ,” says another. “Haze yourself.”

“Sorry guys,” Roberts had responded at the end of the thread. “Next time I sit down I’ll try to do it in a way that doesn’t turn you on.”

Hux closes the page. Across the room, Mitaka quietly takes the photograph of himself and Thanisson down from the shelf above his desk and hides it in a drawer.

_x75717: Ben_

_x75717: have you seen this?_

He sends the link. Ben responds a few minutes later.

_Ky10_R3n: yeah, isn’t it cool?_

_Ky10_R3n: The guy called me to get my permission to use the photos_

_Ky10_R3n: I was really excited, I didn’t expect anyone to actually pay attention to my stuff_

_x75717: did you see the comments?_

_Ky10_R3n: oh yeah, there are a bunch of idiots commenting_

_Ky10_R3n: but, you know, welcome to the internet_

_Ky10_R3n: that always happens_

_x75717: they’re not just random idiots_

_x75717: most of them are cadets and graduates_

_x75717: and they’re calling the cadets you photographed fags and stuff_

_Ky10_R3n: yeah, I saw some of that, but it seemed like fairly standard douchebag behavior to me_

_Ky10_R3n: it actually kind of goes along with the project... like, it was supposed to document how cadets perform their gender and then there they are in the comments trying to be as obnoxiously bro-ed out as possible_

_x75717: Mitaka is freaking out_

_x75717: he hid your picture of him and Thanisson because people were saying it looked like a wedding picture_

_Ky10_R3n: I’m sorry he’s upset_

_Ky10_R3n: I know they don’t make it easy on you guys_

_Ky10_R3n: but there’s nothing wrong with the photo, they’re literally just standing there, not even looking at each other_

_Ky10_R3n: or the picture of the two guys in the woods - I mean, I think about guys having sex all the time, but it never even occurred to me that people would think that’s what they were going to do_

_Ky10_R3n: apparently I underestimated how obsessed your very straight buddies are with gay sex_

_x75717: yes, you did_

_x75717: and the thing with the guys in the woods is that you photographed them on Flirtie Walk_

_x75717: people go down there to have sex, supposedly_

_Ky10_R3n: lol I had no idea_

_Ky10_R3n: how come you never took me there?_

_x75717: because I knew how it would look to anyone who saw us walking down there_

_Ky10_R3n: well, I didn’t know_

_Ky10_R3n: the lady from Public Affairs took us there because I wanted to take a picture of Roberts with the woods and the river in the background_

_Ky10_R3n: are you honestly mad at me about this?_

_Ky10_R3n: I’m sorry Mitaka is upset but I don’t think it’s my fault that a bunch of douchebags are being ridiculous_

_x75717: like I said_

_x75717: I just wish you’d listen to me occasionally instead of telling me I’m paranoid all the time_

_Ky10_R3n: you are paranoid_

_Ky10_R3n: but like they say, I guess that doesn’t mean that they aren’t actually out to get you_

***

Two days later, the story gets picked up by the New York _Post_. Hux comes back exhausted from his history final to find Mitaka looking more terrified than usual. He mutely gestures Hux over to his desk to look at his laptop. 

“Gay porn ‘artist’ in sexy photoshoot at West Point!” reads the _Post_ headline. Hux’s stomach cramps painfully. The wrestling photographs are featured prominently, as is the picture of Roberts, which is cropped to focus on his crotch. Mercifully, they haven’t reprinted the picture of Mitaka and Thanisson. 

The _Post_ has also managed to dig up one of Ben’s shirtless self-portraits: he’s looking into the camera, his eyes smudged with dark liner, his full lips twisted in a way that comes across as both sultry and defiant. It isn’t clear from the article that the picture wasn’t taken at West Point. 

And - Hux cringes - they’ve apparently found some of Ben’s explicit artwork. The brief article alludes salaciously to his “X-rated pictures of public sex acts” and the newspaper has actually reprinted one, a partially blurred-out sketch of a man giving another man a blowjob in a movie theater. 

An anonymous “retired West Point general” is quoted as being outraged that the academy’s leadership would allow “a homosexual pornographer” to photograph cadets. “I hope to see a full investigation into this total moral failure,” the man concludes. 

“I’m going to kill him,” Hux says.

“Who, that general? Or Kylo?” Mitaka says. “I’m sorry - I helped him set it up - I should have talked to you first - “

“This is his fault, not yours,” Hux says. “But yes, you should have.”

“Do you think they’re really going to investigate us?”

“Not you,” Hux says. “Public Affairs, maybe. Mitaka, can you give me a minute? I need to make a phone call.”

“Okay,” says Mitaka meekly. “I’ll go to the library for a while.”

“And _don’t_ mention to anyone that Kylo is someone I know!” Hux adds, emphatically. Mitaka nods, fleeing. 

“Have you seen the _Post_ article?” Hux says as soon as Ben picks up the phone.

“Hello to you too,” Ben says. “I know, it’s awful. Did you see they put ‘artist’ in quotes, like I’m not really one? But I’m definitely adding ‘homosexual pornographer’ and ‘total moral failure’ to my business cards if I ever get some.”

“Where did they get that drawing of yours? The one of the movie theater? I thought you said you hid all your explicit art.”

“Oh that,” Ben says. “I think they found it buried in my old LiveJournal, from, like, fall junior year. I don’t even remember posting it. The worst part is that it sucks so much - I’d be happy for them to publish some of my good recent stuff, but they had to go dig up this crappy drawing from high school.”

“That’s not the worst part of this! Did you see that guy calling for an investigation? You probably just got that captain who helped you fired.”

“Do you really think so?” Ben says, sounding startled. “She was great. She made the project so much better - like, it was originally going to be about masculinity, but she said she wouldn’t endorse anything that excluded female cadets. And then I think the pictures of the female cadets were some of the most interesting I took. But the guy from the Hudson _Gazette_ didn’t reprint any of them, so now everyone’s freaking out about gay porn.”

“That captain’s definitely getting fired,” Hux snaps. “She really should have done more research on you. And her boss is a nightmare - there’s no way he’s going to back her up on this.”

“Why, who’s her boss?”

“The head of the Public Affairs Office is this ridiculous colonel who told us last fall that if there were gay-rights protesters outside the gates, we shouldn’t stop to talk to them for any reason, even if they need help.”

“Are you serious?” Ben says. “Does he think there are, like, airborne strains of homosexuality you might catch?”

“His name is ‘Colonel Tulip’ and I think he’s overcompensating for it,” Hux says. Ben laughs. “Anyway, apparently last year some cadets in uniform were photographed giving the protesters directions, and Tulip freaked out about how the press could have picked it up and reported that the cadets were part of the protests.”

“The horror,” Ben says. “But yeah, I didn’t realize that’s what she was up against. I hope she’s okay.”

“They’re going to get _somebody_ for this, and I bet Tulip is going to make sure it isn’t him,” Hux says flatly. “And that’s still not the worst thing. You’re also not going to be able to come up here anymore.”

“What? Why not? Did someone tell you that?”

“No, but I can’t exactly go to football games with someone whose face is in the New York _Post_ next to drawings of blowjobs! I’ll be surprised if someone doesn’t connect me to this as it is. Lots of people have seen me with you.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ben says, his voice rising. “You’re going to refuse to be seen with me in public because of a stupid tabloid article that everyone will have forgotten about in a week?”

“It’s not going to be forgotten in a week up here! People are going to be obsessing about it for months. They’re probably already reading through your stupid LiveJournal looking for more stuff they can make fun of.”

“Who the fuck cares what some idiots think about my LiveJournal?” Ben snaps. “Whatever. I can delete it, if that makes you happy. What are you actually saying here, anyway? You don’t want me around anymore?”

“I didn’t say that,” Hux says, irritably. “But we need to be more discreet from now on.”

Ben sighs. “Great,” he says. “Just what I wanted.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you put me at risk for no good reason! I told you this was a bad idea.”

“How are you at risk? You’re not even in any of the pictures!”

“Yes, because unlike Mitaka, I was smart enough to say no to you!” Hux takes a deep breath. “At least this time. I still don’t know what I’m going to tell anyone who asks why a ‘homosexual pornographer’ has been coming up to visit me.”

“Just tell them I’m a friend of yours from high school and that it’s none of their fucking business who you hang out with! How hard is that?”

“Yes, right,” Hux sneers. “The sort of people who see a picture of Mitaka and Thanisson standing next to each other and immediately start speculating about who bottoms are definitely going to be easily convinced that my relationship with you is entirely innocent.”

“You say that like the reality is that it’s some kind of crime.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do, unfortunately.” Ben is quiet for a moment. “You still planning to come stay with me over your break?”

Hux hesitates. As annoyed as he is at Ben, he certainly has no desire to spend three full weeks with his father. “Do you still want me to?”

“I always want you,” Ben says, sounding more annoyed than affectionate. 

“In that case,” Hux says, “try not to start any more tabloid scandals before I see you again.”

***

A few hours later, Ben calls back. “What now?” Hux says, exasperated.

“I just wanted to ask if you were okay,” Ben says. “I mean, I honestly didn’t want to cause you any extra stress. I’m sorry about that.”

“Well,” Hux says, “I suppose there’s no point in talking about it now. I’ll just have to keep my head down for the rest of the semester and hope everyone has forgotten about it by the time summer training starts.”

“So you’re not, like, sitting up there being silently furious at me?” 

“It’s probably safe to assume that I’m always sitting here being silently furious at you.”

Ben laughs. “That does sound like you.”

Just then, the lights blink off. Hux looks around in confusion. “I think the power just went out,” he says. He peers out the window: all of the barracks have gone dark. There’s a dull, rising roar of cadets shouting at each other across the courtyard. In the distance someone begins blowing a horn. 

“Too bad I’m not there with you,” Ben says. “We could make out until the lights come back on. Pretend we’re playing Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

Someone knocks sharply, twice, on the door - the signal that the person knocking is an upperclassman. Hux drops the phone onto his desk and jumps up to stand at attention. “Enter, sir or ma’am!” he shouts. Through the receiver, he hears Ben giggle.

His company commander opens the door, looking harried. “Hux,” he says, “stay here in your room until the power comes back on. Don’t set anything on fire, even toilet paper, and don’t throw your laptop out the window. And stay off the roof!”

“Yes, sir,” Hux says, bemused. “Sir - “ 

His company commander is already gone, moving onto the next room. Hux picks up the phone again. “One of the upperclassmen just stopped by to tell me not to set toilet paper on fire and not to throw my computer out the window,” he says.

Ben laughs hysterically. “There go your plans for the evening, I guess,” he says. “Is that what you people do for fun up there, since they don’t let you drink or have sex?”

“I suppose somebody must, or he wouldn’t have come to warn me,” Hux says. There’s a loud crashing sound from outside, followed by whoops and cheers. “And apparently somebody did just throw something breakable into the courtyard.”

“Good times.”

The chorus of shouting from outside suddenly becomes exponentially louder. Hux looks out again into the moonlight. “And... now there’s a naked man running laps in the courtyard. He’s wearing a Darth Vader mask.”

Ben laughs. “How come your school only does anything fun when I’m not there?”

“He’s got a red chemlight taped to his dick. In case anyone wasn’t already looking at it, I suppose.”

“And for safety,” Ben says solemnly. “Safety is important.”

Mitaka comes in just then, looking excited. “They’re having a pillow fight in the other courtyard! Do you think we should go?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Hux says. “Remember what happened last time?”

“Did he just say you guys are having a pillow fight now?” Ben says. “Like a porn movie about a girls’ boarding school?”

“Not like that,” Hux says. “Up here the guys put rocks and metal lockboxes and stuff inside the pillowcases. Last time this happened some kid got smashed in the face with a lockbox and wound up in the hospital with a broken orbital socket.”

“I guess I should’ve figured West Point would find a way to make anything terrible,” Ben says. “Even a pillow fight in the dorms.”

***

Ten days later, Hux is back in the city for summer break, having mostly managed to avoid awkward inquiries from his classmates by dint of being even more unfriendly to them than usual. Mitaka has been less successful in this endeavor - whenever the other cadets tease him about Thanisson, his pinched, fearful expression gives away far too much, Hux thinks irritably. 

In Ben’s room, Hux discovers that the Solos seem to have adapted to the inevitability of his visits by finally replacing Ben’s red-painted childhood bed with a queen-sized mattress on a box spring. He’s almost disappointed by the change - he had grown rather fond of being perpetually crushed between Ben and the wall - but he has to admit that it is more comfortable, especially in the building summer heat. The Solos’ lovely pre-war apartment has high ceilings and huge windows, but no air-conditioning. At night, as they lie next to each other, the wooden blades of the ceiling fan move through the humid air as if they were stirring soup. 

They go back to Brighton Beach, where the stiff wind that Hux remembers vividly from their last visit is still blowing in from the ocean. It’s much more pleasant in June than it was in November. Hux mentions this to Ben, who scowls. 

“I liked it better here in the winter,” Ben says, as they’re changing on the beach. 

“Why? Because you’re antisocial and in the winter there’s no one around?”

“Because in the winter you were willing to sit on my lap and let me feed you, but now you’re going to say there are too many people looking at us.”

“Well, yes,” Hux says. “I prefer not to spend my summer vacation getting punched in the face; I had enough of that last semester.”

“What are you talking about? Who was punching you in the face? I thought they weren’t allowed to hit you.”

“Just the mandatory boxing class,” Hux says. “They call it Plebe Beating. I think I got half a letter grade less in history than I should have because I had history right after boxing and most of the time I was too dizzy to concentrate.”

“That’s horrible,” Ben says, glaring at the ocean. “And pointless. Don’t you people have, like, guns and bombs and stuff? Do they really think that punching terrorists in the face is going to be how we win the war?”

“I think it’s meant to be more of a psychological-preparation thing.”

“Oh right, because getting hit in the head repeatedly is great for your brain.”

“I actually didn’t mind it as much as gymnastics,” Hux says. “Now _that_ was pointless.”

Ben laughs. “I remember that,” he says. “You were so mad that your GPA was potentially going to be affected by the fact that you couldn’t do a cartwheel. Did you ever figure it out?”

“Not really,” Hux says gloomily. “I eventually got a one out of five for my cartwheel, and the instructor told me that he was only giving me that point out of pity.”

“I’m just sad I didn’t get to watch you practice,” Ben says. “Didn’t you also have to take a swim class that you hated?”

They’re wading into the water now, which is still cold enough to make Hux’s feet go numb almost immediately. He shivers.

“Yes, they call that one ‘Plebe Drowning,’” Hux says. “At least I never had to be fished out of the pool with a hook, like some people.”

“I’m surprised you can swim at all with those enormous shorts dragging you down,” Ben says, tugging at the Army-issue black swim trunks that Hux had insisted on wearing, much to Ben’s disappointment. Hux is also wearing a black T-shirt, to prevent sunburn. Ben is wearing a Speedo. Hux is trying not to look directly at him; the sight of him makes Hux’s face go hot.

“There’s nothing wrong with these shorts,” Hux says primly. “Not everyone feels the need to show off all the time like you do.”

“Apparently not. I think you put on more clothes than you take off when you go swimming.”

The water is so cold that within fifteen minutes Hux’s fingernails are turning blue. Ben seems unaffected, floating on his back and looking up at the sky. It takes all of Hux’s willpower not to wrap himself around Ben for warmth. 

“You okay?” Ben asks, looking up at Hux. “You look like you’re freezing.” 

“I’m okay,” Hux says, unconvincingly. Ben slides an arm around his waist, under the water. Hux glances around anxiously: the only people nearby are elderly Russians, who, like Ben, seem entirely unbothered by the cold grey water. A group of grandmotherly ladies, some of whom appear to be swimming in their underwear, are floating on inner tubes not far away. Their high voices carry over the surf like bird calls. 

“Hux, your lips are turning blue,” Ben says. “We can get out. I want to go see the Freak Show, anyway.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve never been to the Coney Island Freak Show? We have to go! It’s a classic.” Ben stands up and wraps his arms around Hux from behind, gently herding him towards the beach. 

“What does it involve?” Hux asks, doubtfully. Somehow Ben’s body is still hot against his back, even in the icy water. He can’t quite bring himself to push Ben away. 

“They do different things. Last time I went there were contortionists, and people eating fire, and a tattooed guy who hammered a bunch of really long nails up his nose.”

“That sounds disgusting.”

“It’s not! It’s Americana,” Ben says, squeezing Hux tightly and kissing the side of his face. One of the elderly Russian men is squinting at them angrily, although it also seems possible that his face always looks that way. “And speaking of Americana, have you ever been on the Cyclone? We should go.”

“Isn’t that the really old rollercoaster that kills people every so often?”

“That’s part of what makes it cool. You know, in other places, you pay to go on rides and be fake-scared,” Ben says. “But on the Cyclone, the fear is real.”

***

A week later, for Ben’s nineteenth birthday, Leia offers to pay for a few nights in a hotel for them. “So that you can get out of the city for a little while,” she says, smiling at them. “Go somewhere fun.”

“I feel bad about taking your mother’s money all the time,” Hux says, after she’s left the room.

“Don’t,” says Ben, shrugging. “I’m pretty sure this is more a present for her than for us anyway - this is ‘please stop having sex in my apartment and go have sex somewhere else’ money.”

Hux winces. “That’s kind of what I was afraid of.”

“Try not to think about it,” Ben advises. “That’s what I do. Maybe instead you should think about packing your uniform to take with you when we go.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because it’s going to be my birthday, and I’m asking you nicely?” Ben says, grinning at Hux. 

***

A few days later, in a Victorian hotel in the Adirondacks that looks as if the Addams family might be living in one of its crumbling wings (Ben had chosen it based on its strong record of ghost sightings), Hux peers into the warped bathroom mirror. His camouflage BDUs are starched stiffly enough to still look fairly crisp after weeks in a duffle bag. His black combat boots are only adequately shined: they’re his field boots, not the special boots he wears only for uniform inspections. Hux is willing to indulge Ben up to a point, but he still has no intention of ever letting Ben anywhere near the perfect oil-slick finish of his inspection boots. 

After a moment’s thought, he puts on his patrol cap. It’s part of the ensemble, and he suspects Ben will like it. But somewhere in his innermost being it bothers him that he is violating regulations by wearing his hat indoors.

Feeling more than slightly ridiculous, he raps sharply on the inside of the closed bathroom door. “Inspection!” he shouts, and pushes the door open. 

Ben is lying sprawled on the unmade bed, naked, one hand lazily stroking his cock. When Hux walks in, he does a fairly credible impression of a person who is alarmed at having been caught. He hastily pulls a sheet over himself.

“Get up,” Hux snaps, yanking the sheet off of Ben. Hux still feels uncomfortably uncertain about what Ben really wants him to do here, but “irritation at someone else’s failure to meet military standards” is a relatively easy emotion for him to role-play. “Stand at attention. What’s wrong with you? Why isn’t your room ready for inspection?”

“Sorry,” Ben says, grinning at Hux as he scrambles out of bed. “I got distracted.”

“The correct response is ‘No excuse, sir,’” Hux says sharply. “Stand up straight. Hands at your sides. And stop smirking.”

“Yes, sir,” Ben says, struggling to keep a straight face. “No excuse, sir.”

“That’s right,” Hux says, stalking in a circle around Ben, looking him over. Ben is still hard; his cock jerks under Hux’s gaze. Hux grabs it, stroking it roughly with his gloved hand. “Was this what _distracted_ you? You really have no self-control.”

Ben groans, squeezing his eyes shut as Hux fondles him. “Ah - _fuck_ \- I couldn’t help it - I’m sorry, sir - “

“You will be,” Hux says, wondering how far Ben wants to go with this. He squeezes Ben’s erection one more time; it leaks onto his leather glove. He lets go of Ben and pushes the heel of his hand against Ben’s soft mouth. “Lick that clean. And get on your knees.”

Ben makes a soft sound in his throat as he drops to his knees, still lapping at Hux’s glove. Hux slides his hand into Ben’s hair, tugging at it, pulling it back to expose his throat. He steps forward, one leg between Ben’s spread thighs, nudging at Ben’s balls with the toe of his boot. Ben whimpers, trying to push his face closer to Hux’s crotch. “What should I do to punish you, hmm?” Hux asks.

Ben swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Please - you can do anything to me,” he says hoarsely. “Sir. You can make me suck your cock - or bend me over and fuck me - “

“That sounds more like a reward than a punishment,” Hux says, still holding Ben’s head back by the hair. “I think first you need to learn to control yourself.” He remembers one of the fantasies Ben had described to him in vivid detail. “Specifically, you need to learn to control _this_.” 

Holding onto the bedpost for balance, he lifts the foot that’s between Ben’s legs and rolls the sole of his boot over the shaft of Ben’s cock. Ben gasps, a harsh, high-pitched sound, his hips jerking involuntarily against Hux’s heel. “Even that turns you on? When I step on your undisciplined cock?”

Ben only groans in response. His hands come up to squeeze Hux’s ass, pulling Hux’s hips closer to his face, almost throwing Hux off balance. Hux slaps his hands away and takes a step back. “I didn’t say you could touch me,” he snaps. “Hands behind your back.”

Ben looks up at him pleadingly. “Please - sir - I need to suck you - I need it - “

“You have to earn it,” Hux says sternly, although he’s so hard now that it’s starting to be difficult to keep up the facade. Hux reaches for his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it out of its loops with a _swish_. Ben’s eyes go wide. For a moment Hux considers whether to hit him with it. Ben has talked about wanting Hux to slap him, but he isn’t sure if the belt might be too much. Instead he uses it to bind Ben’s hands together tightly behind his back.

The camera that Ben had given Hux is sitting on the nightstand. Hux picks it up, thinking that he’ll want to remember this, Ben bound and on his knees. He walks around Ben, taking pictures from different angles: the belt around his wrists; his abused, swollen cock bobbing up between his spread thighs; his flushed, eager face. He strokes Ben’s cheek for a moment, then takes a photograph of his gloved fingers sliding into Ben’s mouth. 

“What would you do if I showed these pictures to everyone?” Hux says, trying to get back into character. “Let everyone see how desperate and needy you are?”

“I told you already,” Ben says, looking up at him hotly. “You can do anything you want to me.”

Hux swallows, feeling dizzy. He sits down in a chair by the bed, spreading his legs. “You still want to suck me off?” he asks, palming himself through his trousers. Ben nods frantically. “Then beg for it.”

Hux isn’t entirely sure what he expects Ben to do next, and it sends a hot shock through him when Ben drops his face to the floor and begins kissing Hux’s boot, starting at the toe and moving higher. When he reaches the inside of Hux’s ankle, where the leather is thinner, Hux can faintly feel the warmth of his mouth. Ben kisses the other boot lingeringly, then kneels up, putting his head in Hux’s lap. “Please?” he says. “Will you let me touch you now?”

“Go ahead,” Hux says hoarsely, unable to hold out any longer. Ben rubs his face against Hux’s groin and breathes in deeply. Hux squirms in his chair, his cock throbbing, as Ben mouths at it through his trousers.

Ben tries to open the top button of Hux’s fly with his teeth, but doesn’t succeed. The muscles in his shoulders bulge as he strains against the belt binding his wrists. He looks up at Hux, doe-eyed. “Can you help me do this - I need it - “

Hux unbuttons his fly and pulls his erection out, stroking it slowly in front of Ben’s face. “Is this what you wanted?” he asks, rubbing the wet head of his cock against Ben’s soft bitten lips. Ben opens his mouth with a whine, licking Hux’s precome off his lips, sliding the flat of his tongue over the sensitive underside of Hux’s cock.

Hux squeezes his eyes shut, trying to think about something else, trying not to come immediately as Ben sucks him fully into his mouth. Ben’s mouth is so good - and combined with the sight of him on his knees, his powerful arms tied behind him - it’s too much - 

Hux opens his eyes as Ben pulls away. Ben is looking up at him pleadingly, his face flushed. “Hux - I really want - “

“What?”

“Can you step on me again? While I’m doing this?”

“You want me to step on your cock while you’re sucking me off?” Hux asks, enjoying the way Ben sucks in a breath when he says this. “You think you’ve earned that?”

“Yes - please - “

“Mmm, I suppose I can do that, since you’ve been so good,” Hux says, lifting his boot to press Ben’s cock back against his abs. Ben makes a frantic little sound in his throat as he pushes eagerly against it. Hux leans his head back against the chair and shuts his eyes, feeling Ben’s hips shudder against the sole of his boot as Ben’s hot mouth slides back down over his cock. 

***

In bed afterwards, Hux is half-asleep, lying on his side, Ben’s body warm and solid curled behind him. Ben’s hand is on Hux’s chest. Their room is under the peaked roof of the hotel; the grey rain falling outside makes a sound like footsteps overhead. 

One woman on the website where they had booked the hotel had complained that the room’s dark rafters made her feel as if she were about to be murdered. Hux had laughed at the review when Ben showed it to him, but there is something ghostly about the way the shadows fall between the heavy timbers of the ceiling. Hux remains a resolute non-believer in all things spirit-related. But he squirms closer to Ben anyway, pulling Ben’s arm more tightly around him. 

“Hux,” Ben says suddenly, into Hux’s hair, “you didn’t really mean it when you said I wouldn’t be able to come up and see you anymore, did you?”

Hux tenses. “I don’t know,” he says. “I’ll have to see if people are still talking about that stupid article when I get back.”

“And what if they are?” Ben demands, his body stiffening against Hux’s back. “How long am I banned for? Six months? A year?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Hux says tiredly. “There’s nothing I can do about it now.”

Ben sighs heavily and rolls over fully on top of Hux, as if he’s trying to crush him into the mattress and keep him pinned down. For a moment, Hux lets him. Ben’s body covers him entirely, so heavy that he can barely breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is the chapter where all the potentially triggering stuff is. In order:  
> \- Ben/Kylo’s photographs of West Point cadets get picked up by a local newspaper and other cadets make homophobic comments about them, which are quoted in some detail. The f-word is used twice, once starred out in an online comment and once not starred when Hux is quoting what someone else said.  
> \- Then the photos gets picked up by the New York _Post_ , which makes additional homophobic comments.  
> \- Ben and Hux fight some more.  
> \- There are a couple of references to violence: there is a brief description of cadets injuring each other in a violent pillow fight (this is a real thing that happens...). Also, Hux complains about feeling dizzy after getting punched in the face at boxing class. Not graphic.  
> \- Ben gleefully describes the guy at the Coney Island Freak Show who sticks nails up his nose.  
> \- At Ben’s request, Hux puts on his uniform and boots, steps on Ben, and speaks to him in a mildly degrading way (but no gendered or homophobic slurs). He also takes photographs of Ben while he’s naked and tied up and makes a comment along the lines of “what would you do if I showed these to everyone?” But it’s just dirty talk, not an actual threat.  
> \- Everything is very consensual, but it’s implied that they haven’t really talked through their limits/safewords in much detail.  
> \- Tagged “Sub!Kylo” because he is, in this story, although as I’ve said, I see them both as more switch/vers in general. 
> 
> Additional notes:  
> \- Kylo’s photography project and the ensuing uproar is based on a real incident, which in many ways was even more ridiculous in real life than it was in this version. You can read an interview with the actual artist here if you’re interested: https://hyperallergic.com/162244/the-downside-of-art-going-viral/  
> \- The uniform Hux is described as wearing (BDUs = battle-dress uniform) is the dark green camouflage uniform that the U.S. Army wore in the field until the early/mid-2000s. At that point, they invaded Iraq and a lot of soldiers discovered that they were the only dark green things for hundreds of miles. (There is a desert version of this uniform, but many units deployed without it.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! And many, many thanks to the very kind people who have commented and left kudos on previous chapters. As always, please don’t hesitate to let me know if you think this story needs additional tags or notes, or if you have concerns about how the sensitive content was handled. And please come yell at me about Kylux on Twitter (same username) at literally any time!


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